The year turns

a shoulder

cold.

Discarded leaves –

yellow,

scarlet,

bronze –

drift, settle, and

rust.

Flocks tumble

southward in dark arcs.

A stumble in

the evening choir’s

collective

beat and thrum.

Impress

the frequency

and vibration to

muscle,

bone,

unconscious.

One knock, and

Autumn enters.

Stumble.

Tumble.

Fall.

 

— C.Birde, 10/17